The Runaway Bride
by SonamyEmic
Summary: A story about Patrick and Angela before running away together. THIS STORY CONTAINS ABSOLUTELY NO JISBON. New chapters may be added.


"Hey, you were great out there, kid."

"I know," Said a rather scruffy looking teenager, waltzing over to his father expectantly. A small smirk grew across the older male's face. "Alright, boy, you earned it." Patrick Jane's face fell slightly as he watched him hold out a 20 dollar bill while pocketing the other 250. It was, after all, mostly his money. Begrudgingly, he took the bill, stuffing in into his jeans. Silence fell over them and Patrick was just about to leave before he felt a hard, forceful hand on his shoulder.

"Kid," Said Alex Jane, still never calling his son by his actual name, though adapting a softer tone as he continued. "What's say me and you buy a six-pack and kick it old school tonight? Just you an' me, father and son?" Patrick had to hold back a snort. He had long ago given up hope of having a normal relationship with his father. Every time he pulled something like this, it was to get him soft so that he would forgive him for spending their next haul on booze. Instead of a snort, though, he found himself heating up. "Actually, I already have plans." He said matter-of-factly. His father looked at him with the slightest hint of anger, though after seeing his son acting so strangely, he smirked.

"Ah, girl troubles, eh?" He said as if he knew everything there was to know about it. "Who is it? That chick who works the magician's show? Or the hottie at the food stand?" Patrick rolled his eyes, knowing that when his father heard the word 'girl' all he could think of was sex. "No," He answered, annoyed. "See ya." And with that he turned on his heels and sauntered off into the busy carnival buzz.

It was around four o'clock when Patrick arrived at the food stand, wearing his best piece of clothing; a waistcoat, actually his father's, though he never wore it anymore. He peered through the glass at each of the tasty treats in turn, weighing the odds of which would successfully woo his lady. "Lookie who we have here, if it isn't the Boy Wonder himself." Giggled Sasha, daughter of the stall owner, as she sashayed up the steps to the counter. He knew she was interested in him, hell, he could read almost everything about her instantly, but mostly she just annoyed him. Sasha seemed to think she had infinite power over men, using her pretty face and hips to swindle any passing mark.

"Hi, Sash," He said, glancing up at her and then continuing his search for the perfect sweet. "Did ya con some suckers today?" She asked, hanging over the counter, offering him a good view of her chest, which he continued to decline as he stood up straight, keeping eye contact. "D' you have any Candy Apples?" He said, avoiding her question. She gave a small pout before reaching down into the fridge and pulling out a plump, red apple dripping in sweet toffee. She handed it to him as he held out the bill to her. That's when a though struck him.

"Hey Sash, how 'bout some flowers?" He commented as she was counting his change. Her face lit up immediately. "Oh, Ricky, for me? You're too sweet!" She squeed, leaning over the counter and puckering her lips. He ducked to avoid her kiss, coughing awkwardly and avoiding her eyes. "I mean, can you sell me some?" Sasha looked positively outraged as well as embarrassed as she threw him a bouquet and peachy roses and his change, leaving him to pick up what was left of his pay now scattered across the floor.

At five o'clock The Boy Wonder picked the lock to a small camper at the side of the Carnival, slipping inside and laying in wait beside the door. Only a few minutes later he heard a key turn in the lock and a girl with shimmering, blond hair mosey on into her home. As soon as her back was turned, Patrick pounced, wrapping one arm around her waist and covering her eyes with the other. "Guess who?" He teased, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Oh boy, I wonder," she laughed, hinting at his title. He swivelled her around, placing his forehead against hers, wrapping both his arms around her waist and feeling hers on his shoulders. "It's me." "It's you?" She stood on her tip-toes and placed a sweet kiss on his mouth. "I never would have guessed it." He smiled a sly smile and jumped as her hands clawed at his ribs.

"Ah!" He shouted, falling back onto the couch in laughter. "S-stop! What did I do to deserve this torture! Angel-aaah!" He was gasping for air as she sat on his stomach with her legs crossed, a cheeky smile plastered on her face. "You can't just pick my lock and hide in my house! What d' you think Danny would do if he found some strange boy hiding in my room?" He flipped them so that she was beneath him now. "Well, I hardly think Danny thinks of me as 'some strange boy'," He murmured. "Even if he's not my biggest fan." "He'd kill you if he found out." He rolled his eyes. She raised a brow. "Not to mention me. You know how protective he can be." She sighed, a slightly sad look overcoming her perfect features. He kissed her again, just to make her smile. It worked. "Mmm.. Like that time he caught us kissing. He chased me around with a lethal weapon." "It was a frying pan." "I could have been bludgeoned to death!" "A fry-ing-pan, Patrick."

"Well then," He said, standing up and swinging her over his shoulders, causing her to shriek. "Shall we?" "If you put me down, we shall." She joked, hitting him softly on the back. He pouted, setting her down on the floor again, but this time taking her hand in his. He lead her to the door, lifted her out by the waist and took her hand again as he started running. Carnival music filled their ears, though Angela was surprised to find they were leaving. As Patrick slowed, she looked at him questioningly. "No Ferris wheel today?" "Nope. I found somewhere better."

The two teenagers arrived at a hill, and the Boy Wonder lifted the Angelic Angela into the air bridal style and carried her up the slope. Waiting for her there was a red Candy Apple, a stuffed teddy-bear and a bouquet of beautiful peach-coloured roses leaning against a young oak tree. She 'aw'ed at the sight of them, planting a kiss on Patrick's cheek and holding onto his arm. "Well, aren't you the romantic?" "I am when I'm with you." She hugged him, burying her head in his chest. "I can't imagine how life would be if I hadn't met you."

She frolicked over to her gifts and hugged her bear. She recognized it from the Carnival. "You must have spent ages trying to win this! I can never win at those claw machines." He waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, once you figure out the system it's quite easy, really." He sat down next to her and she looked up at him. "Oh? Tell me!" "Aw, now," He smirked, kissing her longingly. "Where's the fun in that?"

They sat there atop the hill, taking turns nibbling on the Candy Apple and watching the clouds float on by. Patrick would often glance sideways at Angela, taking in her beauty. She was, after all, just that; beautiful. Her blond hair falling perfectly around her, framing her angelic complexion. Her body was perfectly formed, perhaps not incredibly big-busted or wide-hipped, but every single curve seemed to be made with the precision of an artist. Everything about her was perfect to Patrick.

Sweet Angela. Beautiful Angela.

"I love you." She said, quite suddenly. He was taken by surprise. "Really?" He asked stupidly, earning him a kiss. "Really really." He grinned. "I love you, too." He hugged her, nuzzling her swan-like neck, his pupils beginning to dilate. He felt her tense underneath him. Worried he had done something wrong, he pulled back.

"What is it?" He asked, seeing Angela's furrowed brow. "Patrick," She started, turning back towards the sky. "Do you think the way we live is right? Conning people all the time?" He sighed, creasing his own brow. He had always been taught that everyone outside of the Carnies was nothing but a mark, a sucker. But whenever he had to con a child, an old woman, or a sick person, someone who was vulnerable and innocent, his stomach did an uneasy flip. "...No," He answered after a while. Angela looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Really? I'm not the only one?" "No, you're not. I don't think it's right, how we live, but it's the only way we can survive. How else can we put bread on the table?" She pondered this for a moment. Patrick thought that that was the end of it, but, after a moment, she answered.

"You could be a psychic." "There's no such thing as psychics, Angela." He interjected hurriedly. She shushed him. "I know. But, you could pretend to be one. I mean, it would still be conning, but you would be giving people peace, helping them get over lost loved ones. Is it really so bad to put people at peace over something they would otherwise spend their entire lives mulling over? You would be making them happy." He looked at her. She was, of course, right. "And you could use your skills to help the police, too. We'd be good people." She was completely right. She always was. Insane thoughts were running through his mind, insane, stupid thoughts, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that they just might work. He jumped up off the ground, startling her. He looked down at her seriously. "Let's run away."

"W-What?" She said, dumbstruck. "I'm serious. Let's run away. We can leave all of this behind, have a new life, start a family." She jumped up and kissed him. "Oh Patrick, let's do it. We can make it. We can escape." "When do we leave?" "As soon as possible." "Okay, I'll meet you here on friday. I'll make sure we've got transportation." He was interrupted by Angela's lips on his. He cupped her face, pulling her closer. She started laughing, and he joined in. "We're running away." She said with the widest grin Patrick had ever seen her wear. "We're running away!" She jumped into his arms, and he welcomed her warmly. He placed his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Angela."

"I love you, Patrick."


End file.
